


Five Reasons Fiona Envies Sonya, and One Reason She has no Pity For her At All

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: F/F, Jealousy, Rival Sex, Rivalry, envy - Freeform, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiona is intrigued and repulsed by Sonya in equal amounts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Reasons Fiona Envies Sonya, and One Reason She has no Pity For her At All

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Ladies Bingo, Prompt: Jealousy.

1:

She has a certain native sleekness. Fiona has always possessed a similar quality, but in Sonya it shows up in sinew instead of arched backbones and a certain catlike quickness. Sonya is brawnier – she can bust head-first through a window and shake the glass from her hair with nary a wince. But it’s a feminine strength, an appealing sort, the sort Fiona possesses in a different quantity, and the kind she wishes she always had on hand in large quantities.

But she has her own special way of walking, shooting, scheming and fighting. Of being.

2: 

Sonya had twelve years in black ops, and six of those were in recon and deep cover cells. It apparently involved a lot of sexpionage, and Sonya isn’t shy about bragging on her background. There were the twins from Belgrade, and the six American GIs who took her to their filthy hotel room for the weekend. The elegant Bahrainian millionaire who took her to his half-completed hotel. The innocent son of a sheik who tried to hire her for an evening – to her, an opportunity to stake out his weapons-grade stash of plutonium.

Fiona’s never desired her experience, but Sonya makes it all sound like so much fun.

3: 

Sonya owns a Ruuger, a beautiful, sleek machine with incredibly powerful repeating action. She caresses it like a lost appendage before oiling it at Michael’s charcoaled table, her elbows tucked in like a schoolgirl’s as her thin fingers rub and rub at its shiny surface. She whistles the tune of old patriotic songs under her breath quietly – French resistance tunes, songs from the Russsian Revolution, as if her mind was an enormously antiquated Victrola piping out the lost dreams of nations long killed and subsumed. Fiona understands that Sonya’s only parroting the values of her parents, much as she absorbed her father’s Protestant beliefs. 

All of their beliefs are out of date but oh, how she yearns to possess that gun!

4: 

Sonya has Michael. She has his face before hers, his voice in her ear and his tongue in her mouth, the taste of his cream in the back of his throat and the sensation of his skin brushing against her back. She walks in his shadow, an adoring mock-concubine in private and a vicious bodyguard in the light.

Fiona will never submit herself this way, never could. Maybe that’s why she and Michael didn’t last.

5: 

It’s Sonya who submits, when she and Fiona finally collide on a humid, drunken night in the loft. Hands bruise tender breasts and cause necks to burst into livid bruises. She breaks buckles on her way down into the golden tangle between the other woman’s cries.

Sonya loses her beauty when she has an orgasm – her mutterings are in Russian, Farsi, and Italian, her face screwing up into a sharpei scowl and he legs wobbling, bowed out, a keening exiting her lips. This is the one way Sonya will never better Fiona – her fingers will never be so knowing of the enemy, so slim, so antic. 

Fiona might have assumed it all to be yet another glorious lie. But she’s at ground zero. And the evidence is on the tip of her tongue.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction uses characters from **Burn Notice** , all of whom are the property of the **USA Network**. No money was gained from the writing of this fanfiction and all are used under the strictures of of the Berne Convention.


End file.
